Trouble in Paradise

Chapter 5 a Bride for Astrad

Davion had never looked more magnificent.

The great throne hall was usually a place of strategy and governance, but now had been transformed into something almost unrecognizable. Polished metalwork gleamed beneath towering chandeliers, banners of iron and flame hung proudly, and rows of nobles filled the vast chamber.

This was no ordinary union. This was history and at the heart of it stood a door. Behind it, Princess Talia stood still. Dressed in a gown of flawless white, its fabric shimmering like untouched snow, flowing elegantly around her form. It was beautiful, perfect even and it felt like a cage.

Her heartbeat thundered against her chest, uneven, restless. Too loud. Too fast. This was it. There was no escape or delay. Ahead of her waited a man she barely knew, a man who had threatened her life without hesitation.

A beautiful devil.

Talia inhaled slowly, steadying herself.

“You will not break,” she whispered under her breath.

Then the doors opened. Light poured in, music swelled and she stepped forward. Every eye turned. The hall stretched endlessly before her, yet the path felt narrow—inevitable—as she walked toward her father… and the man who would soon become her husband.

King Aldric stood tall, though something in his eyes betrayed him. Pride, regret and helplessness. Beside him was Pyrrhos.

Talia’s breath caught. He stood adorned in gold. Not excessive. Not decorative, but regal. The fabric draped over him like something made for a king, his silver hair contrasting sharply against its brilliance. And those eyes were already on her. Watching.

Talia felt it instantly. A chill beneath her skin. Was it anger? Resentment? Curiosity?

She couldn’t tell and somehow that was worse. Either way—she was doomed.

The ceremony began. Words were spoken, vows exchanged and rituals completed. It was flawless and efficient. Everything that narrates to perfect. And utterly devoid of warmth.

When it ended—Talia was no longer Princess of Davion. She was now Princess of Astrad. Bound.

The departure was immediate. No lingering celebrations. No drawn-out farewells. Astrad did not linger where it did not belong and so, beneath the fading light of day, the convoy departed.

Inside one of the royal carriages—silence ruled. Pyrrhos sat across from her, still. His eyes closed, sleeping or pretending to.

Talia sat opposite him, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her thoughts anything but calm. She couldn’t help it. Her gaze drifted back to him. Again. And again.

There was something unnatural about him. Not just his beauty. Not just his presence. But something deeper, something she could not name.

What the hell are you made of? She wondered silently.

The journey stretched through the night and by dawn they arrived.

Astrad.

Talia stepped down from the carriage, her feet meeting unfamiliar ground. The air felt different here heavier, colder, as though magic itself lingered in every breath. But something else caught her attention.

“Where is everyone…?” she murmured.

The grand convoy that had accompanied them was gone. No welcoming crowd. Just him and her, standing before the entrance of his private quarters.

“Do you plan to sleep outside?” His voice cut through the quiet.

Talia startled slightly, turning toward him. For a moment, she said nothing.

Then—“Where is everybody?”

Pyrrhos turned his gaze slowly at her. There was no warmth in them.

“Everybody,” he said flatly, “is in their own quarters… minding their own f*****g business. And I suggest we do the same.”

He turned, already walking forward. “Come on.”

A simple gesture. A command, not an invitation.

Talia hesitated only for a second before following, because whatever awaited her beyond those doors, there was no turning back now.

The second night in Astrad was quieter. Too quiet.

The palace, vast and imposing, seemed to swallow sound itself. Even the servants moved like shadows, their presence barely noticeable, and their voices never rising above a whisper.

Talia sat alone in her chambers. Again. The room was grand, far grander than anything she had been given in Davion, yet it felt cold. Unwelcoming. Not hers.

Across the hall was him. Pyrrhos. His words from the day before still lingered in her mind.

Stay clear from me.

And she had intended to truly. But intention and necessity were not the same. Talia exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table before her.

If she was to survive here—if she was to understand the man she had been bound to, then distance alone would not save her. She needed knowledge. So she acted.

Earlier that evening, she had quietly instructed the kitchen maids to prepare what she had learned was his preferred meal. It had not been easy, no one spoke much about him but fear made people careless in small ways.

This was an opportunity not because she cared but because she had to. Steeling herself, Talia rose and made her way across the hall. The distance was short but it felt longer.

Her hand paused briefly at his door. Then she pushed it open and stepped inside. What she saw—

Shattered everything.

“Oh my goodness—!” The words escaped before she could stop them.

On the bed— entwined was Pyrrhos and Princess Annalise. There was no misunderstanding. No confusion. The intimacy was unmistakable and wrong.

Talia’s breath hitched violently, her entire body freezing in shock for a single, unbearable second, then instinct took over. She turned and ran out of the chamber, down the hall.

Back into her own, the door slammed shut behind her. Her heart raced uncontrollably, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths.

“What… what was that…?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Her mind refused to settle. Images clashed violently in her thoughts. Confusion. Shock. Disbelief.

Across the hall—

“s**t!” Pyrrhos’ voice cut through the moment.

Annalise sat up, irritation flashing across her face before realization struck.

“The hell is that b***h’s problem—” she muttered under her breath, then froze.

“Oh no.”

But Pyrrhos was already moving. He had pulled on his trousers in seconds, his expression dark, unreadable, controlled. This was not supposed to happen. Without another word, he strode out of the room towards her. Toward the door she had just slammed shut. Because now, silence was no longer an option.

And whatever fragile distance had existed between them had just been destroyed.

The door had barely settled from the force of her escape when it burst open again.

“What the hell did I tell you about respecting boundaries?” Pyrrhos’ voice struck first. Cold and furious.

Talia turned sharply, her back already pressing against the wall as if instinct alone had placed her there.

“What has boundaries got to do with this?” she shot back, disbelief overriding her fear. “You are sinning against the universe, and we are married, for gods’ sake!”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, stepping closer. “Thanks to you.”

“Oh!” Talia snapped, her voice rising despite everything. “You’re welcome!”

“SHUT THE f**k UP!”

The room exploded.

Windows shattered outward in a violent burst, glass scattering across the floor like rain. The candles flickered out instantly, plunging the chamber into darkness.

Talia gasped, her body trembling as she pressed harder into the wall but there was nowhere to go. No escape. Because even in the darkness, she could feel him closer, too close.

The air itself seemed to tighten, heavy with something unseen, something suffocating.

And in that moment, Talia wished for anything, for the ground to open or the walls to swallow her whole. Anything but this.

Then the candles lit again. One by one. Flames rising without touch, revealing him. Standing right in front of her.

His golden eyes burned not just with anger, but with something far more dangerous, unstable.

“Stop tempting me,” he said, his voice low now, controlled but barely. “I might push you to harm’s way… and not be able to stop myself.”

Talia swallowed hard, her throat dry, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it.

“I… I didn’t mean to…” Her gaze faltered.

“She was your sister.”

For a moment, silence.

Then a smirk. Slow and wicked.

“You have no idea.”

The words sent something cold down her spine. Before she could respond, he turned and walked out. Just like that.

Leaving behind shattered glass, flickering flames and a silence far louder than his rage.

Talia slid down the wall slowly, her legs no longer able to hold her. Her heart still raced. Her hands still trembled.

“What have I married into…?” she whispered.

Across the hall, Pyrrhos entered his chambers without hesitation. Annalise was still there waiting, as if nothing had happened.

“Leave.” The command was immediate.

She blinked, scoffing lightly.

“You’re joking, right? You cannot be serious.”

“I said leave.” His voice rose again sharper. Darker.

A warning.

What was it with all of them tonight? Pushing him. Testing him.

Annalise didn’t hesitate this time. Not because she didn’t want to argue but because she knew that look. The one in his eyes. Dangerous. Unpredictable.

She said nothing more. Silently, she gathered herself, dressing quickly before moving toward the door. But as she passed him, her gaze lingered. Something unreadable flickering beneath it. Then she left.

Pyrrhos was alone. Truly alone, as he had always been. The room fell quiet but not calm, because something had shifted.